


my way

by Anonymous



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alpha T'Challa (Marvel), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Cousin Incest, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Erik Killmonger, Riding, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 16:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Erik feels restless, a feeling that follows him all day.





	my way

 

 

Erik feels restless, a feeling that follows him all day.

 

It itches, not uncomfortably, but it leaves him thrumming with energy. So much that he can’t deal with. He knows the symptoms of pre-heat when he sees it, the urge to nest, to be claimed and bred, just the need to be  _filled_.

 

It annoys him, how his hormones can reduce him to a needy mess. Only waiting for the faint thrum of it to bloom into a full-blown heat. All he can think about is how he wants something to get rid of these feelings that he’s having.

 

He wanders the halls with no aim, as if it gives him any clue to what he really wants. It’s too stuffy in his room with only the scent of his pre-heat blanketing T’Challa’s lingering scent; too much for him to deal with.

 

T’Challa’s at a meeting, having left him with a kiss on his temple and a soft murmur about how he didn’t want to be late before leaving. Erik feels a pull to be with him, growing with impatience.

 

The Dora Milaje let him in with only confusion on their faces but he doesn’t give much attention to them, brushing past and locking glances with T’Challa over the heads of the elders.

 

As if he can read Erik’s mind, T’Challa clears his throat, “Meeting adjourned. I have matters to deal with.” The council scowl at him but with sudden realisation, they seem to understand what is going on. Yet, Erik only stands by the door, the feeling simmering hotter and hotter with every ticking second. They file out one by one with only a few words to exchange and soon enough it’s only Erik and T’Challa in the room.

 

“N’Jadaka,” T’Challa calls and Erik melts inside, “Come sit.”

 

Erik obliges walking over to him, slinking his way into his lap with a faint grumble. “What is wrong, my love?”

 

“Nothin',” Erik slurs, rubbing his cheek eagerly into T’Challa’s hand.

 

T’Challa says nothing for a while, only allowing Erik to do as he pleases, making himself comfortable in his lap. “N’Jadaka, is there something you want to tell me? You seem to be in a mood.”

 

Erik purses his lips, eyebrows scrunching in frustration. “I- I dunno, just feel.. Weird. It kinda, I can’t describe it.”

 

T’Challa can smell his agitation, this close, his scent spikes and he murmurs something incomprehensible. “It’s fucking annoying,” Erik rumbles low in his throat, burying his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in deep and fuck, all he can smell is _T_ ' _Challa_.

 

“I want your knot,” Erik says, whispers, nipping at T’Challa’s neck and rocking his hips in a slow motion, suddenly aware of the slick trickling between his thighs. “I fucking need it, want you to fill me up, are you gonna give it to me?”

 

T’Challa breathes, hands running down Erik’s back, down his hips and damn, he wants to provide, to help Erik through this. “Y-Yes,” he stammers and that’s all Erik needs before he slithers off his lap with ease, doing away at T’Challa’s pants and takes his cock into his hand, licking a fat stripe up the underside of his cock to the head.

 

“Oh _Bast_ ,” T’Challa whimpers at the marvels of Erik’s tongue, licking him so good, so well. Erik’s scent only becomes heavier as it does noticeable. He cards his hands through Erik’s locs, tugging and Erik moans, hot and breathy against his leaking cock.

 

Erik swirls his tongue around the leaking head, teasing, and takes him whole with no hesitance. “N— _N’Jadaka_ ,” T’Challa warns, throat tight and he’s close even though he’s barely started. Erik stops, pulling off with a wet and resounding pop and T’Challa growls; mostly frustrated with himself.

 

“Want you so bad,” Erik whispers as he climbs on his lap, lifting his hoodie to show his leaking dick and wet thighs, sinking slow on his cock. “Ah, _ah_ , fuck.”

 

“You’re so filthy, N’Jadaka,” T’Challa groans, thrusting up into him, “Interrupting my m- ah, my meeting in just my clothes and demanding so much of my attention.”

 

Erik closes his eyes, clenching sweetly around T’Challa’s girth, “‘Challa,” he whines, sounding well out of it. T’Challa moves to thrust into that heat he’s willing to chase but Erik chokes on a breath, sinking his nails into the skin of T’Challa’s hip.

 

“Wait,” it’s not an order, but a hesitant utter. T’Challa can’t deny him anything, only slipping a hand under the material of his hoodie to grab at his ass. “Feel so good, stretching me out so much ‘Challa.” And he starts, lifting his hips to fall back on his cock and T’Challa throws his head back with a groan.

 

It becomes a pattern, the quick rise and fall of Erik’s ass meeting T’Challa’s hips, thighs clenching and slick gushing from his ruined hole. Soon all that falls from Erik’s lips are breathy chants of _‘Challa,_ ' _Challa_ ,  _‘Challa_ and the smell of their musky intermingling scents in the air. He wants to kiss him and he does, tugging at Erik’s bottom lip and claiming his lips.

 

Erik’s gland taunts him, waiting to be bitten, to claim him. T’Challa plants sloppy kisses down the base of Erik’s throat and he’s close, gripping his hip to steady himself but it’s futile.

 

“Gimme it, gimme it T’Challa,” Erik pants, slowly unwinding himself. “Fucking do it.”

 

“N’Jadaka,” T’Challa breaks, knot swelling and he cums, knot locked in place, sinking his teeth into his gland and Erik follows soon after with a whimper of _kumkani_ , spilling white ropes of cum all over his hoodie before he slumps against T’Challa’s chest.

 

They’re both barely sated, T’Challa knows that, but it’s comforting. He doesn’t move, only licking at the punctures at Erik’s gland and brushing his locs out of his face, smiling at him. The calm and rest on his face only makes T’Challa’s chest warm with adoration.

  
“ _I’ll take care of you_ ,” he whispers to him in soft Xhosa.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm still feeling iffy about this.. 
> 
> kumkani means 'king' in Xhosa
> 
> EDIT: thanks sm, i know this hasn't blown up but i've been hesitatant about posting in this fandom because i felt my works weren't good enough. thank you.


End file.
